


Relapse (I Gotta)

by ViveLaRebellion



Series: Something's Wrong [4]
Category: Thomas Sanders (Video Blogging RPF) - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Blood, Cutting, Depression, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Obsessive Behavior, Panic Attaack, Relapsing, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Unreliable Narrator, Withdrawal, gotta hurt the tired boi, or i guess withdrawal like feelings, roman can be a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 01:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10651815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViveLaRebellion/pseuds/ViveLaRebellion
Summary: A vent piece.Anxiety self harms and hates himself for it, so he tries to stop. Until someone makes it worse.





	Relapse (I Gotta)

**Author's Note:**

> this is mostly a vent piece, read with caution lovelies!  
> -written while listening to Twenty One Pilots because pain

_its bad for you, you can't keep this up, you're weak and pathetic and selfish, it never helps, you never feel better it never goes away ~~you need to right now Right Now RIGHT NOW YOU GOTTA YOU GOTTA YOU GOTTA~~_

Anxiety paced furiously in his room, fists balled in his hair, tugging hard to fight the urge. The urge to go into his bathroom and unbury the razor from the back of his medicine cabinet. The razor that had gone untouched for a month. He couldn't afford to panic right now, not when Thomas needed so badly to focus. Thomas was already running behind on this latest script and it had to be perfect and it couldn't be perfect if Anxiety kept getting him off track and unfocused. But Anxiety could barely keep himself under control. He had promised himself that he would stop cutting. It only made him feel worse in the long run, even if it helped somehow in the moment. He only did it when he knew being himself would really put Thomas in a bad way, but recently that had felt like all the time, so he was trying to stop. He knew that was a slippery slope, and not one he wanted to approach.

_just give it to Morality, he'll dispose of it and you won't have the temptation anymore ~~but im not ready yet what if i still need it i need it i need it i need it~~_

~~~~Anxiety squeezed his eyes shut against the gnawing, clawing _Need._ "I don't need it, its fine, I don't need it, it's fine. It's fine, it's fine, it's _fine_..." He growled under his breath, a little mantra to hopefully try and calm down, but the Need got louder. Angrier. He worked on taking slow deep breaths, hoping it would clear his head. He had tried counting, but he couldn't even focus enough for that. His nails dug into his scalp to try and alleviate the urge, and it worked for a moment. Until he realized he was just redirecting it, and that didn't really solve anything. Frustrated, he wrenched his hands from his hair and shoved them in his pockets, clawing weakly at the soft lining instead of his skin.

 ~~_worthless worthless worthless this is pointless you'll do it eventually pathetic_ ~~ _shut up ~~~~~~you need it you're just gonna think about it until you do it~~ shut up!  ~~you can't just quit you're too weak too needy~~_

"SHUT UP!!" He was shaking now, his hands pulling hard on his hair and - when had they gone back in his hair? He quickly shoved them back into his pockets. Frustrated tears threatened to fall as his breath got more ragged. God, he was so close to hyperventilating because he had forgotten to keep track of his breathing.  _ ~~stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid~~_

He was devolving into an anxiety attack, he noticed distantly. This wasn't unusual, but the thought spiked his heart rate when he remembered he was trying so desperately to avoid this for Thomas' sake. Frustrated tears finally spilled down Anxiety's cheeks and he bit his lip to keep quiet. The urge was screaming in his ears and it was all he could think about. He didn't want the pain, he didn't want to be like that anymore.  _you're better than this Sanders you can do this you don't need it  you're not like that you're not weak like that you don't need it ~~but i gotta i gotta i gotta i gotta i need it i can't think if i don't i need it to think i need it~~_

Anxiety's pacing had stopped now. He was just glowering at the floor, fighting with his body to keep from falling apart even though it just wanted to combust. Through clenched teeth he forced out, "You don't need it, you're stronger than this you complete idiot, what would it even fix? Nothing. You don't need it! It's nothing! It's even less helpful than you are to Thomas so just STOP!" By the end he was shouting at himself, his gaze fixed on the floor, bodily shaking, hands pulling too hard in his hair. But his breathing had evened slightly. Seemed like positive self talk worked, even when using it to scold and insult yourself. He continued the flow of the furiously self controlling lecture, and slowly he felt himself shaking the urge. His breath evened and his pulse stopped roaring in his ears, and he was almost ready to take his hands out of his hair again. 

 

There was a loud banging on the door and Anxiety nearly jumped out of his crawling skin, yelping slightly at the surprise before the door was flung open. Roman, in all his righteous fury, barged into Anxiety's room and launched into a lecture of his own. "Anxiety I am tired of your meddling! For a whole month you have been making Thomas nearly too anxious to function and I cannot put up with this any longer. Thomas and I have been making excellent progress on this script these past few hours. He was feeling confident in it, as was I! We were happy and productive so what is there for you to be so intrusive about? You hold Thomas back and distract him from important tasks like working with me! I have never seen you be helpful in a practical sense, and all you do is hurt Thomas! If Thomas is to succeed you cannot continue to behave in this manor! Either be useful or cease this behavior." 

As Princy ranted he advanced into the gloom of Anxiety's room until he towered over the darker trait, a nonspecific threat hanging in the air. Anxiety forced himself not to shrink under the attack. This wasn't the first time Roman had decided to play "holier-than-thou" and make Anxiety into a villain, and Anxiety had never let his hurt show before and wasn't about to start now. He still couldn't bring himself to look in his aggressor's eyes, though.

"Wow, did you rehearse that? Because that was the most long winded "fuck off" I've ever heard." Roman's stony scowl didn't falter at the swear, so Anxiety decided to continue. "Seeing as you put so much effort into it, I'll respond with the shortest "fuck off" I can manage." Anxiety forced a smirk as held up his middle finger and tried to shove Roman out of his room. He hoped the other didn't notice his hands shaking.

Unfortunately, Roman was built much denser than Anxiety, and so was hardly affected by the shove, instead deepening his frown and grabbing the offending hand, earning a flinch and brief look of alarm from Anxiety before he settled back into annoyance. "I will not be so easily dissuaded by your foul personality, Anxiety. I cannot let this stand." Roman sounded like he was gearing up for another rant, so Anxiety cut him off.

"Princy, what do you want from me? To stop being myself? Because that's some serious bully talk. I'm talking seventh grade, shoving kids in lockers, bully talk." Anxiety was biting the inside of his cheek even as he tried to sound bemused and forced his shoulders to relax. 

Roman recoiled at the comparison. "I will not be compared to a bully by the only one of us who actually enjoys the pain of others!" Princy sneered.

Anxiety yanked his hand out of Roman's grasp, shooting him what he hoped was an effective glare, despite the tears he refused to let fall. "Yeh, sure, whatever helps you sleep at night Princy." 

Roman ignored the retort, and instead just stared at Anxiety. "My God, are you actually going to cry about this?"

Anxiety's heart stopped in his chest.  _he saw he saw he saw he sees you_ It took a moment for him to find his voice before he could try to respond. "I don't-"

Roman didn't let him speak. "You think you're a victim here? You selfish, toxic man. The only victim here is Thomas and You are his attacker - quite literally! - and you don't have the right to play the pathetic cowering victim! Try not being so selfish as to only think of yourself for once and realize that you have a real responsibility to Thomas. One that you have never upheld!"

Anxiety blinked at the fanciful trait before twisting his features into the nastiest scowl he could manage with his mind shredding itself behind his forehead. "Guess I'm a lost cause, then. Get the fuck outta my room Princy, before I forcibly eject you."

Roman seemed to get the point that he wasn't getting through to him, and frustratedly growled before storming out, slamming the door hard behind him. 

Alone, Anxiety fell to his knees, hard. He let out the breath he had been holding during the entire exchange, only to immediately draw it back in, and before he knew it he was hyperventilating. His nails were back to digging into his scalp and tears flowed freely down is face. He wanted to scream but that would require getting a full breath, which just wasn't in the cards right now.  ~~ _evilevilevilevilevilevilevil all you do is hurt hurt hurthurthurthurt thomas worthless terrible evil you don't deserve to live die die diediediediedie_~~ Anxiety hardly noticed as he staggered to his bathroom and threw the medicine cabinet open. ~~_lost cause lost cause lost cause lost cause_~~  He swiped everything off the shelf until his fingers landed on the tiny cold edge of his razor. ~~_bully cruel bully bully bully bully_~~  He needed to.  ~~ _needneedneedneedneed_~~ Through tear blurred vision he pushed his pants down to reveal the mess of scars across his thighs, all healed so nicely; it almost gave him pause.

 _I've been so good...._ ~~ _you were gonna fail eventually_~~  

When he brought the blade down it was angry and desperate, and he hated how he delighted in it. He hated that the sight of blood springing to the surface eased the tension in his chest. He hated how the more lines he slashed into his legs the lighter he felt. He hated how he felt ease at the sight of beads of blood growing and rolling down his legs, leaving red tracks that vanished into his black skinny jeans. 

He Hated It.

But at least Thomas would be ok. 

 


End file.
